Hangover Bad
by ardavenport
Summary: Buffy recovers from her cave-slayer experience.


**HANGOVER BAD**

by ardavenport

* * *

"Buffy tired."

"Yeah, we kinda got that." This being the fourth or fifth time that Buffy had announced this, Xander had run out of clever returns to the obvious. Leaving the fire trucks and late night excitement behind them, Giles opened the side door to Stevenson Hall and they herded their sobriety challenged slayer inside and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Willow led with two much larger men steering Buffy between them. They exited the stairwell and turned down the hall toward Buffy and Willows' dorm room.

"Buffy go." She suddenly pulled free of their grasp and veered left, her blond head shoving past Xander.

"No. . ." Giles grabbed and missed. And then stopped himself as her slender form disappeared through the door of the ladies' lavatory. "Oh."

"Oops." Willow grinned nervously at them and rushed in after her.

"Ooooo-kay," Xander agreed.

They waited. There were only a few students still up, the lights in the hallway dimmed for the evening. Students were either in their rooms or still out watching the novelty of near-disaster and fire trucks nearby. Two girls in bathrobes and toweled heads exited the lavatory. They suspiciously glared at the large, middle-aged man with slightly thinning brown hair and his smaller, more college-aged sidekick lingering at the door as they went around them.

"Uh, does this look kinda weird?"

"I think it best that we wait in Buffy and Willows' room," Giles suggested. They retreated across the hall.

Xander turned on the lights. "Hey, how about some coffee?" He pointed at the room's small refrigerator and stash of snacks and drinks. "That might bring our Buffy back to the 20th, soon-to-be 21st century."

"Or it might just keep her awake all night and we'll be chasing her around the campus again. We should just let her sleep it off."

"Good point," Xander agreed.

"I suppose there isn't much more we can do," Giles said as they took seats.

Sagging in his chair, Giles felt ridiculously out-of-place in this world of college co-eds. He took his wireframe glasses off, dug a handkerchief out of his pants pocket and started rubbing imaginary dirt off the lenses.

"Well, Willow might still need a little backup." Xander leaned forward on the back of the chair he straddled. "And I always wanted to storm a women's bathroom. Plus, Buffy's wearing my coat."

"Oh, really."

The dorm room door flew open and Willow's red hair rushed in past them to the night stand next to Buffy's bed.

"Uh. . ." Giles got up while Willow dug through the frilly lingerie in a bottom drawer. ". . .can we help?"

Xander didn't think he looked very helpful. Willow came up with a long flannel nightgown and rushed back out past them.

"I've got it," she waved them back on her way out.

Willow crossed the hall, back into the bathroom. To her surprise, Buffy was still in one of the stalls peeing. How much beer could one slayer hold? she wondered.

Thankfully, no one else remained in the girls' lavatory and hopefully no one else would come in. Willow had already gotten some peculiar looks from the girls coming out of the showers when she'd been showing Buffy to the toilet and helping her out of Xander's coat.

At last the peeing stopped and Willow nervously crossed her fingers that Buffy's devolved brain would recognize what toilet paper was for. After a moment Willow heard the correct sounds, and miraculously a flush, though there was a huge excess of toilet paper on the floor. Buffy banged on the metal door of the stall.

"Uh, oh." Willow dodged out of the way just before Buffy slammed the door out off of it's hinges. It crashed into the row of sinks, missing the mirrors and clanged to the floor. Willow cringed. Buffy crouched at the entrance to the stall, arms up in a defensive posture, her pants and underwear still down around her ankles.

"Okay, we slew that bad, old door there." Warily, Willow approached her roommate, her small hands visible, the nightgown over one arm. Buffy glowered back and then down at her feet.

"Ungh." She started to tug at her trapped ankles.

"Oh, no, no, no, wait." Buffy's head snapped back up, eying her roommate warily. "I mean, there's a better way."

Placatingly, Willow held up the nightgown over her own chest. Willow sincerely hoped that this gesture somehow helped communicating her intentions.

"See? We just take those old clothes off, and put this one on. No tearing those new pants, or that shirt you like. . ." Willow lowered herself to the ground and very carefully freed Buffy's feet from her clothes, not an easy task since Buffy still had her shoes on. Then she just as carefully removed the shoes and socks. Buffy remained cooperative, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as Willow worked. Was it a slayer thing that she could stand on one foot for that long, and shouldn't anyone who'd drunk so much beer have trouble with something like that?

Willow finally rose. Buffy was now barefoot and bottomless.

"Now let's get the rest of this.." Buffy recoiled when Willow reached for the hem of her shirt. For one hideous moment Willow thought that she was going to bolt and run, sprinting through the halls as she was.

"No, no, nonono, it's okay." Willow held up the nightgown again. "We just need to take that off, and put this one on." Willow pulled up her own shirt by way of demonstration. Buffy seemed to get it this time and she allowed Willow to pull off her shirt and bra. Willow scrunched up the nightgown so she could get Buffy's head through right away, but the sleeves nearly turned into a fabric-ripping challenge. Willow nervously narrated her actions while she untangled them.

"There!" Willow announced. Buffy looked down at the white-with-pink-stars, flannel nightgown that hung well past her knees. Willow hurriedly collected the scattered clothes and shoes and clutching the bundle, tried to steer Buffy back toward the exit, but Buffy had now taken an interest in the row of sinks.

"Oh, right. Wash your hands." Willow hadn't even thought that Buffy would be able to handle that. She reached over and turned the handles of the faucet before her roommate had a chance to cause any damage that would require a plumber. Buffy plunged her head down into the sink and gulped water from the faucet, her heavy blond hair falling all around and in the basin. Willow cringed and turned the water off when she was done.

Buffy wiped her face with her sleeve and sniffed. It looked dirty, or was that an effect of the enchanted beer? Willow wasn't sure. She put the bundle down on the counter and got a paper towel, wetted it and tested her theory.

"Now, let's just see if we can get some of this off." Buffy only flinched once, before acquiescing to the contact. But nothing came off. When Willow looked closer, what looked like soot from the fire turned out to be a real change in skin color, gray highlights on the cheeks and a darkening around the eyes that made her look especially fierce. Her hair seemed to have thickened into a long, coarse mane. And there was a smell, too. Remembering the college-boys-transformed-into-cavemen, Willow cringed at the real, physical change. Buffy stared back at her with a baleful and not-quite-there expression.

"Uh, Okay, now we're done here and we can-" Buffy seized Willow in a surprise hug.

"Willow, nice," Buffy said softly behind the back of Willow's ear. The naked emotion in her voice touched Willow, as well as a rising panic from the sudden lack of air.

"Eerp..." she squeaked. "Ur...Buffy!" She fought for a few more breaths before the slayer finally released her. Still gasping, Willow gathered up the clothes again. They left the lavatory, crossed the empty hall and entered their dorm room. Xander and Giles stood up from the desk chairs. Buffy sulked at them as Willow closed the door.

"See, all better," Willow announced, grasping at some semblance of normalcy. She put the clothes onto Buffy's desk.

"Oh yeah, all systems normal," Xander agreed with a tone of sarcasm. Buffy eyed him from the curtain of hair around her face. He and Giles moved carefully so that they were on either side of Buffy.

"Perhaps if we get her into bed. . ." Giles suggested. Buffy looked from one to the other of them, pouting aggressively while they all made motions about doing something, without actually doing anything.

Finally Giles went to the bed, avoiding stepping on the underwear spilling out of the bottom drawer next to it, and pulled the covers down. This galvanized Xander and Willow to nudge Buffy in that direction. Still suspicious, she went with them, sat on the bed and then pulled her legs up. She sniffed the pillow and, apparently satisfied with it, lay down. Sighing, Giles pulled the covers back up over her.

"Now, you just- -"

Buffy sprang at him and dragged him back onto the bed with her. Horrified and just barely hanging onto his wireframe glasses, Giles flailed, ineffectively trying to pull away, but ending up on his back, on the bed, anyway. He gasped as Buffy sniffed at the armpit of his sweater; it tickled.

"Watcher, nice." Buffy declared before settling down next to him.

Mouths open, Xander and Willow stared.

"Comfy, too," Xander added. Finally straightening his glasses, Giles glared daggers at him.

"Uh, Giles, should we. . .um. . . .go?" Willow asked.

"No," he answered hastily with just a bit of panic. "I think we just need to wait. . .until she falls asleep and. . .then I think I can. . .get out of this."

Intimately aware of the man-crushing strength of the slayer's arms wrapped around his rib-cage, he gingerly patted his captor's shoulder. Buffy snuggled closer; Giles winced. Xander and Willow sat down on Willow's bed. Xander opened his mouth, but Giles silenced whatever smart-ass remark might come out of it with another evil glare.

They waited.

Giles stared up at the ceiling, willing himself to be both stoic and calm. The more relaxed he was, the sooner she would fall asleep and he could sneak away. His watcher's training had certainly not prepared him for this, he thought, or most of what he had been called on to do. After years of living on top of the Hellmouth, Giles knew that the training of the Watcher's council was woefully inadequate for preparing anyone for dealing with an adolescent girl, Chosen One or not, let alone with truly battling the forces of evil. And after all the evil he had battled, what was he reduced to now? Giles again reminded himself to be calm. After all, it wasn't Buffy's fault that the beer she'd drunk was cursed.

It was Xander's fault.

Xander, who also wasn't old enough to drink alcohol by the laws of the state of California, either, had been the bartender for Buffy's binge. Americans were such bloody hypocrites about drink. If they were going to have laws against it until the age of twenty-one, they could damn well enforce them! He glanced over at the other two under-aged persons in the room and his indignation increased. Oblivious to his situation, Xander and Willow were silently playing rock-paper-scissors.

At last, Buffy started to snore quietly. Carefully, slowly, he lifted the arm draped over his abdomen and laid it aside. He eased himself ungracefully off the bed just as he felt fingers brush his side. Still asleep, Buffy grasped the empty space where he had just been. Willow jumped to her feet and after a few seconds of incomprehensible fretting dove to the floor next to the bed. She came up with a small, well-worn, plush toy. Buffy seized on it and curled up again as soon as Willow brought it within her reach.

"Never though you'd be so glad to be replaced by a stuffed pig," Xander commented. Willow pulled the covers up over Buffy.

"Very funny." Giles was too relieved to really snap at Xander, regardless of how much he deserved it. "We'll just let her sleep it off, and she should be herself in the morning."

Xander shrugged. "Well Jack did say it would wear off after a couple of days," he said, referring to the bar-owner who had found it so fitting to regress some of his less-loved customers.

"A few days?" Willow looked worriedly at her roommate.

"But Buffy didn't have as much as the guys," Xander reassured her, referring to Buffy's former drinking buddies. "I mean, she didn't turn into a neanderthal...much."

"Well, we'll check in on you in the morning then," Giles told them.

"We will?" Xander asked

"Yes, we will. First thing in the morning."

Xander shrugged and separated his coat from the crumpled pile of Buffy's clothes on the desk. "I guess I'll have to get up early anyway. To look for work, 'cause I can sure kiss that job good-bye." They headed for the door, Willow following.

"You'll be alright with her?" Giles asked in the doorway. Not that he was at all enthusiastic about staying if Willow didn't feel safe, but he had to make the offer anyway.

"Oh, it's Okay. Even when she's normal, Buffy's a pretty heavy sleeper. I'll be fine. Good night." She gave them a little wave as she closed the door.

**

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* * * * ***

* * *

Early the next morning Giles stood alone at the dormitory door. Willow answered and Giles went in. Sunlight streamed through the windows of the room, but Buffy still lay covered up in her bed.

"She's not up yet." Willow, now dressed in jeans and a pink and white, panda-bear shirt gathered up books and notes into her backpack. "Buffy really isn't a morning person anyway." She hoisted her pack, snatched a white sweater from a chair and eased past him.

"Well, maybe I should come back. . ." he began.

"Oh, no that's Okay. I'm sure she'll be up soon. She made a few noises like she might be, but I couldn't tell what her state of mind might be." Willow was already out the door, making her escape. "I have to go see one of my professors. Be back soon. Bye."

Giles put a hand to his forehead. "How do I get myself into these things?"

Buffy had only been in college for two months. Technically, he wasn't even her watcher anymore, not since the council had fired him. And he did not even have his cover job as school librarian either since they'd blown up the high school. Not that he minded helping Buffy at all, but this amounted to babysitting her after a preposterous drunken outing with some boys she hardly knew, which according to Xander, resulted from her being depressed about some other boy he had never heard of. It seemed like all the petty things that he had thought she'd gotten over with in high school had re-surfaced at some new depth of immaturity that he had foolishly assumed that she'd outgrown. Did college bring that sort of thing out in everybody?

He closed the door to the dorm room. Despite what Willow had said, Buffy wasn't moving at all. He peered carefully at his slayer. In the light of morning, she did look a bit less feral than last night. But Giles did not trust his own judgement on that, because he so sincerely hoped that he would not again be dealing with a determined, sub-human slayer questing for more beer. He looked about and, spotting a line of books on Willow's desk, selected a paperback volume of English poetry. It never occurred to him to look near Buffy's reading material. Even when she wasn't magicking backwards on the evolutionary scale, Buffy was nowhere near the academic that her roommate was.

He pulled up a chair between the two beds and after again checking for any sign of wakefulness–Buffy lay unmoving under the covers–he opened the book to read.

* * *

Buffy lay perfectly still. She didn't know how long Giles had been there, but she had a hazy memory of him and Willow talking earlier. She felt just a bit too warm under the blankets, it was morning and even eyes closed, the room was too bright; Willow must have opened the curtains.

And her stomach was contemplating rebellion.

The window was open. There was a breeze outside. Someone moved around in the room above. She could hear the ubiquitous sound of dorm plumbing. Giles turned another page of his book. He was wearing aftershave. Willow must have had some milk for breakfast and left the glass out. Some guy was talking down the hall. She was behind on her laundry and some of her socks were a little ripe.

This was one time when her slayer senses were not an asset. She had hoped that she could wait out her unhappy tummy, laying quiet until it subsided. But Buffy finally accepted that she was not going to win this internal battle.

Could she push Giles out of the way without hurting him, make it to the door, across the hall to the lavatory before throwing up? She didn't like her chances. She moved her head and winced. Oh yeah, it was going to be bad.

"Buffy?" Giles bent over her, much too close for comfort.

"I think I feel sick."

**

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* * * * ***

* * *

Xander yawned. It was too early in the day for an unemployed man to be up. His dark hair barely combed, he wearily climbed the dormitory stairs.

"Xander!" A far too perky Willow bounded up the stairs after him.

"Ah Willow. Willow of the morning." He briefly put an arm around her slender shoulders as they ascended to the second floor.

"Weren't you supposed to be here earlier? Giles is already here."

"Oh?" Xander looked about, but there were no unemployed, English librarians on the horizon.

"Yeah, he's sitting with Buffy."

"Aaah, I take it that means that our wayward slayer isn't up yet."

"No." Willow shrugged and slung her book bag off her shoulder as they approached her dorm room. "There was hardly a peep all night, and Buffy didn't wake up when I got up. And I wasn't all that eager to find out what state of mind she was in," she admitted.

"So, you stuck Giles with the job?"

Willow brightened. "Yeah." She swung the door open and they stepped in. . .

Willow's good-morning mood went sour as soon as she and Xander walked into the sound of retching in the room. Giles, sitting on the bed next to Buffy, greeted them with a withering glare over her blonde head as she bend over the small, plastic-lined trash can that he held up for her.

Panicked, the two newcomers froze, but it was too late; they were already inside, no way to back out. Xander looked away; Willow fretted and closed the door. There was a long pause. Buffy sniffed and gasped. Then she grabbed the edges of the trash can and, coughing, brought up some more past meals with all of the wet, unpleasant sound effects that went with it. Giles pulled back the hair hanging down on either side of her face, but a few strands dropped back anyway.

"Willow, could you get some water?" Giles asked, looking up.

"Oh, oh, yeah. Okay." Willow whirled, seized a dirty glass from her desk and rushed out, abandoning Xander, who was too slow to offer to help his pal with the water mission. Disgusted, Giles did not even bother casting another scathing look at the former under-aged bartender.

The latest convulsion passed, but Buffy stayed tense, still hunched over the trash can. She sniffed hard, spit, and moaned. Another convulsion seized her just as Willow returned. She brought the water to Giles who took it and put the glass on the night stand. Unable to retreat, Willow sat down on the edge of her bed. Xander eased himself down into a chair in a corner. Buffy paused again, spitting and taking deep breaths. Giles picked up the water glass.

Metal scrunched and crumpled. The edges of the trash can strained and gave into Buffy's clinched fingers. But nothing came up this time as she suffered though another fit. Finally it ended.

Giles took the trash can, set it down at her feet and offered her the water. She took it, sputtered and spit it out almost immediately. She gulped and spit out more water into the trash can and finally leaned on Giles, exhaling something like a whimper. Giles rose, letting Buffy lie down, curled up on her side.

"Willow, could you take can of this." Giles pointed at the crumpled and fouled trash can.

"Oh, oh, yeah. Okay." Willow jumped up and took it, at arm's length, out of the room. Xander did think of helping her this time, but he said nothing, disposing of vomit actually being worse than staying. Giles sat down on the edge of the bed next to Buffy.

"Well, I'd say you've adequately paid the wages of sin."

Buffy opened her eyes and squinted up at her watcher, but she looked so miserable that it was impossible to tell if her mental capacity had returned, along with yesterday's lunch. She sniffed and pulled a pillow over her head.

"Then you can be happy I died in sin." came her muffled response after a very long pause.

Giles and Xander sighed. That was not the retort of a cave woman.

"Glad to see you're back, Buff," Xander told her. She hugged the pillow closer.

"I wish I weren't." The door opened and Willow returned with the now empty trash can which she set down on the floor next to her desk. She first looked at Buffy's pillow, then at her two, male companions for an explanation.

"She's baaaaaaack," Xander assured her.

"Yes, quite." Giles agreed. He stood up, visibly relieved. "Then I will leave you to recover in private then." He thought that he might be more sympathetic. But after the previous night's embarrassment he couldn't quite find it in him just yet.

"I think I need to be going, too." Xander got up as well.

"Oh really?" Giles' voice dripped sarcasm. This was just too much; Xander had started this whole disaster and aside from being late, he was now ducking out early. "And just where do you need to be? The bars don't open until ten, so you can't be needing to serve more evil beer to hapless college students."

"Off to join you in the ranks of the unemployed, again."

That actually stung Giles, though he concealed it. He was not going to add to the implication that there was any similarity at all between his own currently directionless lifestyle and anyone who had as little of a life as Xander Harris.

"And I have to pick up my last check from Jack." Xander finished to Willow.

"Oh, Okay." She glanced at her suffering roommate. She didn't think that Buffy would find Xander much use in getting dressed anyway.

"I hope you're feeling better, Buffy," Giles said by way of farewell. She moaned back.

"Want some coffee? Milk? Juice?" She offered after they had left.

"No," Buffy whimpered from under her pillow. Buffy hardly ever got sick, so it was fairly disconcerting for Willow to see her like this. She picked up a book of English poetry from the floor and returned it to her desk. She straightened a few more things and put a new plastic liner in the abused trash can. Still fidgeting, she finally returned to sit across from her roommate.

"Are you sure you're OK?"

Buffy peeked at her from under her pillow. "No." But she put her pillow aside and sat up anyway. She sniffed, wiped her nose and made a face. There was still water in the glass on the night stand and Willow handed it to her.

"Thanks," Buffy acknowledged, taking a few sips. She lowered the glass and stared sullenly down at the floor. She had felt so humiliated that Parker had conned her into a one-night-stand and then dumped her, that she'd gone out and found something worse to be even more humiliated about. She moaned out loud.

"Do you remember what happened?" Willow asked.

"Oh yeah." She put the empty glass back on her bed. "At least, I think I do," she then admitted with less certainty. "There was a fire and cavemen and...Parker." Willow grimaced in sympathy for her. Buffy had only flashes of things that she had said as single words. But mostly she remembered what she had felt.

Buffy got up and took a few deep breaths, taking in the minor compensation of post-nausea relief. Then she looked down at her flannel nightie and back up at her friend.

"Thanks."

"Oh that's OK. What are roommates for?" Willow smiled back. "You'd do the same for me."

Buffy looked really concerned about that. "I hope I don't have to," she said seriously. "'Cause that's really not something we need to share."

She looked around for her toothbrush, but her eyes fell on her cave art on the wall. She didn't know what was worse, that they might not be able to remove it without repainting the wall, or that she'd wasted a twelve dollar lipstick doing it. Willow joined her.

"Is that Parker?" she asked about the central stick figure.

"Yeah."

"Good likeness." Willow commented. "You showed him," she reassured Buffy with conspiratorial, best-friend satisfaction.

"Yeah. " She remembered clobbering Parker. Twice. The second time after he had apologized to her. She could recall his words perfectly now; they had been almost exactly like what she'd fantasized he would say after being rescued from certain death from vampires. In real life, she had saved him from fire, but at the time his repentance just hadn't made any sense to her. So, she had fallen back on hating him. And then she had let him have it, leaving him stunned and hurting on the pavement.

But her instinctive revenge on him now felt as empty as his apology had surely been.

"He wasn't worth it."

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**- - - END - - -**

**Disclaimer:** All characters and the Buffyverse belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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